Please Don't Bury Us
by Green Eyes Wander
Summary: They say the Crank King is 3 days past Gone. WICKED needed soldiers. The kids were replaceable, and so were their memories. SYOC closed.
1. Chapter 1

THIS IS IMPORTANT SO READ THE AN! :)

Hi! Look who is back! If you don't know me I am Green Eyes Wander/GEW/Green. I write SYOCs, and to be honest, I think I am pretty well known among SYOC lovers on this Maze Runner page. As you may or may not know, my last SYOC is on hiatus because... well because I really actually didn't like the story idea. The whole Hidden Trials things had a lot of wholes in the plot. So onto this. The short story of this... story, is that Sailing Dream Boat, a friend of mine, needed a story idea and I gave her one. She's an awesome writer, but she is currently going through a move and doesn't want to write her SYOC and more. I actually really liked the idea I gave her, so in the name of our friendship I am going to take over the story for her.

So here is my new SYOC! The Vultures will still get random updates, I'm working on a new one btw! ;) If you submited to Sailing Dream Boat, please resubmit to me, the same or a new character.

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They say the only thing human about him is the way he laughs when his people tear their victims limb from limb.

WICKED is running out of options. In the East they are fighting Right Arm rebels, at their base they are trying to carry out several different trials, and in the mid-west, the threat of a new army rises, one that may ally with Right Arm… or wipe the human race out all together.

WICKED is under manned and under staffed. They need soldiers… good soldiers.

A group of immunes is gathered, some from the Trials, and some from WICKED's own staff. They are young and expendable… and not at all qualified for the job.

The ELITE implant, a gadget much like the swipe that will give these teens each a different fighting ability that they've never had before. WICKED will remake them each into a soldier. They train them, arm them, and task them with the mission to take down the leader of the new army, and only then will they be allowed their freedom.

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1) Follow all the rules please! :)

2) PM only please, Title your submission: Character's Name/Character's Nickname ELITE

3) Review. Every chapter please. I need to know what you guys feel about this story or else it's just to hard for me to write. I've done a few of these before and lack of reviews brought on so much writers block. Please review :)

4) No one is perfect, so make you're character flawed

5) Delete things in parenthesis

6) Make you characters unique but realistic. I'll take 6-10 characters, I want a variety in fighting style, gender, personality, etc. But, I really can't have that many LGBT people, or like unearhtly human beings, or people with super unique features because those things, while cool, are no that common. So, in a group of 6 - 10, I can't have 4 bisexual, quiet girls with blue eyes and red hair or something. Get me? I don't mean to offend, but I want to be realistic-ish.

7) Your character can work at WICKED or be from the Glade (Glade A or B). I need at least 2 from each one.

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Name:

WICKED Assigned Nickname: : (Make it short and sweet, something to do with there fighting style or personality, or just a cool nickname in general. This is what your character will go by for most if not all of the story. I reserve the right to suggest different ones)

Age(11-19):

Sexuality:

Height:

Hair (color and shape):

Eye Color:

Race:

General Appearance:

Personality (5-7 sentances, not a line, not a book):

Five Key Traits (Sum up their personality):

Background Give maybe a sentance or 2 about their life before the flare, but focus on their time in the Glade or why they were working for WICKED. 5-7 sentances):

Position at WICKED/Glade ( Glade: Track Hoe? Runner? Keeper of something? WICKED: Engineer? Guard? Cook? Etc.):

Strengths (Ones they had before the Elite Swipe):

Weaknesses (Give them some flaws):

Weapon Preference (Keep it with in the realms of reality):

Unique Fighting Style (Should coincide with weapon):

Three Words to Sum Up Fighting Style:

Relationship Preference (Friend and Romantic):

Fears:

Others:


	2. All The Way Down Screaming

_Chikka-chikka-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!_

 _WAKE YOUR LAZY ASSES UP RIGHT NOW!_

She swore it was all a dream. Every word sounded fuzzy, every flash of light and boom of sound was on a different mental plane.

But then it was physical. A hand, rough and caked with dust, covered in calluses on each finger, struck her cheek.

From that moment forward she was a cursed idiot, always searching for her next breath. Awake and aware of her hell.

"Wake up! Want me to smack everyone of you?" Her assailant was a man. 6'2, buzz cut, scar on his face, scratchy voice, dressed head to toe in either camo or khaki. He was the spitting image of a stereotype army officer.

The girl was awake. Her cheek stung red, and her eyes watered, but she didn't say a thing. She was more concerned with what surrounded her. To her left there were kids strapped into chairs like some sort of straight jacket seat belt, to her right that same thing. And sitting across from her, past the man who had just smacked her, were more teens strapped into seats. As much as 15 of them in total, maybe a bit less.

Other than the confused groans of the hostages, and the shouting of the man, the only thing the girl could hear was the whirring of propellors. The metal floors and giant doors revealed the obvious. They were in a helicopter.

"Who am I?" she heard the boy next to her whisper.

She didn't respond. _Who am_ I?

"What the hell is going on!?" A girl with long brown hair demanded. "Why don't I remember anything!?" That girl struggled against her restraints. A lot of the teens did too.

She didn't struggle.

She looked around. Something was strapped to her back, a pack or a cushion or something. It forced her to sit further forward. On her legs was a pair of black pants. She didn't remember ever putting those on. Who dressed her? She was wearing some sort of jacket. It was hard to read upside down, but she could tell there was something written on her arm, sewn into the sleeve.

 _Elite Subject Echo_

Echo.

The man turned to the yelling girl, shooting a glare that would in still the fear of God in grown men. She didn't flinch. "I'm aboUT TO TELL YOU THAT!" He raised his voice mid sentence.

The brown haired girl huffed.

He turned to the rest, surveying the group. "I am Major Greene! I am in charge of you all for the next 149 seconds. Understand? Now shut your mouths and listen." Major Greene turned to the front wall, the one separating the teens from the pilot. He fumbled with some sort of remote and in a few seconds, and image blinked onto the wall.

A woman. Blond hair, wrinkled skin and soft eyes, dressed entirely in white.

"Hello. I'm Ava Paige. I know you each must be very scared right now, and very confused. Please listen to me for just a couple of minutes. Major Greene and I work for an organisation called WICKED. We are searching to find a cure for the Flare. You all should remember the Flare."

Heat. Drought. Floods. Dying people. So much dying. Zombies. Infected people. WICKED. Cranks. Cannibals. Death. Cure. Heat. It was so hot then. Cranks. They were gone. Family gone. WICKED for a cure. People gone. Loved ones dying. WICKED is good.

Every memory hit her like a truck. She knew everything about the Flare. Yet, each person in her mind didn't have a face or a name. Nothing personal, just facts.

"WICKED is searching for a cure, but people are getting in our way. A Crank out there calls himself the Cranks King. He has an army of the diseased coming to end our search for the cure. We need your help. Each of you has been equipped with what we call the Elite Chip. This gives you all a unique ability to fight and survive. An ability that we believe will serve a great purpose for a mission. You all have practiced with you abilites and perfected them. You just don't remember that. But you muscles will. Don't worry." She looked at them with a tight, close mouthed smile. As if that was supposed to calm them.

"Once you land, read the folder given to you. It will tell you all you need to know about yourself." Ava Paige paused. Her eyes glowed. "Assassinate this man for us. Do this for WICKED and we will give you back your memories. We are watching you always, we will know. Kill the Crank King. Kill his people and any others who threaten the cure. Be proud that you are serving your country and this Earth. And remember, WICKED is good."

She smiled and disappeared. Leaving the group of teens to blankly stare at a helicopter wall.

"You all understand?" Major Greene demanded.

"Not even a little!" The same brown haired girl yelled, "You want a bunch of teenagers to kill your enemies? You stole our memories and expected us to fight your battles? Give me back my memories! I won't move from this seat unless-"

"Sorry hun," the Major said with a sadistic smile. His hand gripped a small red lever. "149 seconds is up."

The girl raised her brow, "Wait, wha-aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Suddenly, they were falling.

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My character is the one being followed in this little prologue, just so you know. Here is the list of accept characters by nickname!

Females:

Razor

Mirage

Bear

Jinx

Lightning

Echo

Males:

Ash (Nickname will change)

Marshal

Steelshot

Q (Nickname will change)

Azreal

Overseer

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Guys, I am so sorry if your character wasn't chosen. I got around 30 submissions. I originally planned on only taking 10, but wow were all of your characters amazing. I think I read each submission all the way through at least 3 times no joke. No list is permanent though, if your character is not accepted now they might just maybe wil appear later. If yours was accepted, congrats! I'm looking forward to an amazing story with all of you, full of a lot of surprises!


	3. There's a New World Coming

Echo felt like she was flying. She almost didn't pull her parachute. She wanted to be a free bird in her last moments.

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 _Let me tell you, it hurt like Hell._

Steelshot—he guessed that was what he would call himself for now—groaned in pain as he rolled over on to his back.

 _Falling, landing, tumbling down a hill, it all hurt._

He'd been lucky enough to pull his parachute in time. He was pretty sure a handful of the kids weren't that lucky. Of course, no one really expected to all of a sudden be plummeting a thousand feet at terminal velocity, so can you really blame them for not pulling it?

He forced himself to sit up. His head swam and black dots danced in his vision, but he remained sitting up, rubbing his temple.

His eyes darted over the area around him. As far as he could tell he was alone at the bottom of a cliff.

"Hey! Anyone? Anyone survive?!" He called.

No one answered. Of course these kids had no idea who he was, and he had no idea who they were… or who he was… maybe they were just hiding from him.

Steelshot forced himself to his feet. That was even worse than sitting up. What ever was in his stomach threatened to make a reappearance.

He cursed under his breath.

In the commotion of landing, Steelshot remembered that a lot of the group had crashed into the top of the hill. It was only a short trek up to the peak, he was sure he'd find the others up there.

With a burst of newfound excitement, the confused boy pushed all of his worries to the back of his mind and focused his energy on the hill. He detached the parachute from his back, shouldered the backpack that apparently held everything he needed to know about himself, and made a brief plan. He'd tackled it at a run, making his way to the top quickly and painlessly.

His legs burned. 10 feet from the peak he began to wonder why he had pulled the parachute cord in the first place. At least the dead kids could sleep for as long as they wanted.

"Anyone up here?" He panted as he reached the top. _So much for quick and painless._

"Help me! He's dying!" Is the first thing Steelshot heard as he overcame the mountain.

14 bodies lay scattered across the flattened top of the large hill. Parachutes littered the ground like blankets at some pyscho's picnic. An African American girl was entirely motionless, with a parachute cord wrapped around her neck. Her face was blue and her tongue jutted out of her mouth.

Suffocated.

Dead.

 _Shit,_ he cursed to himself.

Steelshot bit his lip.

His eyes trailed to the girl screaming over a body. It was a boy, particularly young looking. 14 tops. He seemed fine neck up. His eyes fluttered and his mouth was sealed shut. But he'd landed wrong, probably right on top of a rock. His back was contorted at a weird angle and both of his arms were broken.

A platinum blonde haired girl kneeled next to him, frantically calling for help. Her arms flailed as she yelled.

None of the others seemed to be interested in helping. The boy was bleeding internally. He was dying.

"He's going to die." Some one said as they walked up behind Steelshot.

He looked over to a fiery haired girl. She was standing with one hand on her hip, staring at the scene in front of them, unfazed by the death.

Steelshot was kind of baffled by her calmness.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, "We all know he's a goner"

The blonde hair girl's head shot up. She glared at the red head; tears lined her stormy blue eyes.

"Maybe if you'd help me he won't die." She half sobbed, half yelled.

The redhead rolled her eyes and looked at Steelshot, "Dead." She scoffed under her breath before walking away.

 _Harsh._ Steelshot thought, holding his breath.

The young boy coughed up a little blood. His eyes were beginning to glaze over. He really was dying.

The blonde saw it too.

Steelshot swallowed hard. The girl was losing it.

"Hey hey hey." He cooed, walking over to her. He kneeled beside her. "Breathe." He placed his hands on her shoulders. She was trying to give him poorly executed CPR, but he was bleeding inside himself. CPR was useless at that point. She was only going to make things worse.

"H-he's gunna d-die." She sputtered.

Steelshot carefully pushed her hair behind her ear to get a better look at her face. She was cute. She had the typical attractive features, blonde hair, blue eyes, nice nose.

She still had the parachute clipped to her back.

Steelshot glanced at her arm patch. Elite Subject Razor.

 _Razor… shit. That's intimidating._

"Um… Razor, right?"

"What?" she breathed, looking away from the boy for a second. Her hands hesitated above his chest. That's what Steelshot wanted.

"Razor. That's what's on you arm patch. Look." He pointed to the small dark grey rectangle sewed onto her shoulder.

As she looked down at her arm, a tear rolled down her pale cheek.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"No idea. Mine says Steelshot. I'm just taking it as my name right now."

"Oh." She said absent-mindedly. "I guess Razor is cool. For now."

The kid raked in a last breath. Steelshot and Razor looked down at him.

"Shhhh." Razor whispered, cradling his head.

His eyes glazed over, his mouth opened for a breath, and then he was gone.

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For the time being, she'd call herself Mirage. She didn't like not knowing her name, and she was sure as hell her parents didn't name her Mirage. They had to be smarter than that. But she was at her wits end and she needed to find some piece of information to cling to.

So for now she was Mirage.

The blonde girl was freaking out and the Asian boy was being a good guy and calming her down.A few others detached their parachutes and were now walking around talking in small groups. A trio congregated in the corner of the plateau right near the edge. A tanned skin girl twirled her nearly white hair carelessly. Worry radiated off each person.

14\. Mirage had counted 14 fallen kids. 12 survived the drop.

Some one needed to take charge.

She cleared her throat and opened her mouth, "Does an—"

"Does anyone remember anything?" Some one yelled over her.

Mirage raised an eyebrow. _Excuse me?_

A six-foot tall, muscly, square jawed boy, with shoulder length golden blonde hair and striking blue eyes spoke to the group. He was the poster child of the Genetically Flawless.

No one answered him.

"The Flare." The white haired girl spoke. Mirage recognized her as the girl that was slapped across the face by the army man. She took that hit like a real woman.

A few others nodded. The Flare resonated with Mirage too. Death and disease. So much loss of life. _But whose life_?

"The Flare, yeah. Anything else?"

Dreamy McPerfect Face looked around the group with his crystal eyes. Everyone was speechless.

"The folders. We are supposed to check the folders." The Asian boy who was helping the blonde girl said.

"Ok. That's a start. I know we are all confused but we need to stay calm. Everyone check their folders and we can introduce ourselves."

Mirage didn't wait for another order. She threw the burlap backpack forward and rummaged through the inside.

Her hand landed on something cold and metal. She peered inside.

Sitting right there in "her" backpack, was two metal poles. They looked like they connected some how.

Mirage swallowed hard.

 _Not the time. Not the time Mirage._

She pushed the metal poles aside and found the unmistakable paper envelope.

It was black… like soul sucking black. The envelope its self was manila, but the folder inside of it was that soul sucking shade of black that just screamed "open me". In silver letters printed neatly in the top right corner there was one word, WICKED.

Inside Mirage found a crisp white piece of paper. _A lot of packaging for one piece of paper_. On the top there was once again Elite Subject Mirage.

Then there was a picture of her. At that moment she realized that before she'd seen the picture, she had no idea what she looked like. Brown hair, brown eyes, fairly short. Her paper told her she was Hispanic.

Mirage skimmed her paper.

It spoke in choppy five word sentences. It explained to her how she used the sticks to fight. "Powerful swings" it said, "strategic jabs". She had no idea how to fight. Two metal sticks, who did WICKED thinks she was?

It told her what her physical strengths were and how to take advantage of them. It told her her weaknesses, and how to avoid them.

The paper told her everything she needed to know about her self.

But it didn't even say her name.

Mirage closed the folder.

She tucked it into the envelope.

She shoved the envelope into the pack.

She zipped up the pack and pushed it away from herself.

She hugged her knees into her chest.

…It didn't even say her name.

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She was Elite Subject Bear.

Blunt, straightforward and quick. That was how she was supposed to fight with the wonderfully intimidating machete tucked away in her burlap sack.

"Ok, if everyone's read it, why don't we introduce ourselves?" Angel guy said coldly.

"You're kidding, right?" Bear asked, not meaning to be so harsh.

Blondie turned towards her.

"We should at least know what to call each other." He said each word like it pained him. Like some one was forcing him to take charge.

"Nicknames are not important right now. We need to figure out what the heck is going on." She stated bluntly, crossing her arms.

She was 5'10, dark haired, and beautiful. She didn't mean to intimidate, but she did.

Still the boy didn't back down. "Listen," he snapped with venom on his tongue, "We're scared and confused. We might as well know each other just a bit."

"I really don—" Bear started, but a different girl interrupted her.

"Jinx." A choppy haired brunette piped up. " _Elite Subject_ Jinx." She corrected her self.

"Elite subject Reaper." A luscious haired boy said.

"Marshal." A boy with harsh blue eyes called out in a low voice.

"Titan" another boy said.

And so it went on. Each member introduced themselves.

"Happy now?" Bear asked the boy whom she now knew as Azreal.

He rolled his eyes.

They were 12 kids standing on the top of a plateau. Two dead bodies lay on the ground below them. They were lost, confused, and probably in danger. No one was happy.

"Cut it out alright, I'm just trying to make everyone feel a little better."

"No one asked you to be our mother."

"I didn't say anyone asked me! I'm just trying to—" Azreal yelled.

"What, be the hero?"

"Both of you stop bickering!" Mirage, a short Hispanic girl shouted.

"Well now that we are all buddy buddy thanks to Prince Charming over here, can we figure out some sort of actual plan please?" Bear insisted.

"Guys—" Echo quivered.

"I never said we shouldn't have a plan!"

"Guys—" the white haired girl tried again.

"Ok then let's go, we are wasting precious time!"

"GUYS!" Echo finally yelled.

Everyone looked at her.

She swallowed hard, wincing at the sudden attention.

"There are people coming."

"What?" Bear demanded.

"Over there, in the distance." Echo spoke softly, "I saw a huge group of people."

Sure enough, as Bear peaked over the edge of the cliff, she could see a hoard of people. They were the closest thing to an angry mob she'd ever seen. They had the torches; they just needed the pitchforks.

"They must've seen the WICKED ship, everyone in the main lands hates WICKED." Bear suggested. It shocked her how she knew that. It was as if a small piece of information had broken free from what ever force was keeping all the memories locked in the back of her brain.

"I'm guessing we don't want to stick around to find out." Azreal said.

"Um… they're moving… like really fast." Some red haired girl (who's name Bear did not remember) stammered.

The mob was only a few minutes away, and gaining speed quickly.

"Grab your weapons." Azreal ordered.

Bear looked at him like he was crazy.

Mirage beat her to the correct order before Bear could even open her mouth.

"Run!" She yelled.

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Ok, first chapter! Let's go! A few quick things, I am going to be taking SYOC out of the description for this story, just incase you type that into the search menu and that's how you check to see if this story is updated. Also, if you'd like to add a little more character detail, please send me (in response to the PM you originally sent) what your characters clothing preference would be if they had limited options. What would they pick out if they walked into Target and that was their only place to shop?

Lastly. Character introduction will be slow and steady. The next 4 chapters (including this one) will introduce all 12 characters with 3 different P.O.V.s each chapter. After that the screen time may not be as equal. There is going to be a lot of "the girl with the red hair" or "The tall boy" kind of things because let's be real, how quickly could you memorise 11 names while you still barely know your own?

Please please please review. In fact, it is semi mandatory in my stories. I am the kind of writer that can't work unless I am getting feed back. So it'd be great if I could get feed back (of any kind) from my amazing readers. Thank you and hope you enjoyed!


	4. Torn From The Truth that Holds the Soul

Hi, this chapter is kind of short, it is a transition chapter. Sorry about that. Also, Vixen (character who used to be Lightning on the character list) has a Russian accent, she was the blunt red head in the first chapter, I forgot to add in her accent. I know this update is pretty quick and honestly this chapter isn't perfect (nothing ever is) but I just wanted to get it and move on to a more interesting part. Read and review :) :) :) and enjoy! Thanks for all the PMs! I'm going to camp so the next update might take a while!

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He'd stayed quiet through out the whole beginning. He'd fallen in silence. Detached his parachute. Watched as small groups formed while the group of teens tried to take comfort in each other. He read his folder just like everyone else. But, he had done it all with out a word.

The wheels spun madly in his head, _what is going on?_ A dozen or so teens stranded on a cliff with no memories or direction... he couldn't make sense of that.

So he held his tongue.

He read his folder with his lips pressed tightly together.

Long ranged, solo, methodical.

That's how he apparently fought with his high power sniper rifle.

What did that even mean?

The first time he spoke was to introduce himself.

"Overseer." He said in a low voice as the crowd turned their attention to him. His eyes flicked back to the ground to avoid contact with one of the people who felt the need to nod and acknowledge his presence.

Then he closed his mouth again for a solid 20 minutes. Overseer was silent during the arguments and he was silent when an awkward hush that draped itself over the group like a wet blanket. Uncomfortable and heavy, a weight that no one would want to bear, but the group was given no choice.

Finally, when the hoard of people on their way to kill anything WICKED related came charging up the cliff, he wasn't quiet anymore. He let out one word.

"Fuck."

Everyone scrambled. They grabbed for their things, taking out their weapons and throwing their bags over their shoulders. The intention was to run, to ignore the apparent super human abilities they were given and bolt to the nearest safe haven that the group could scrounge up. Overseer was indifferent to the notion. Running seemed like a lot of work, but so did fighting. So, he conformed to the majority and reached for his bag.

"Wait!" A blonde haired girl screamed. Overseer thought her name might be Ripper or, or maybe Razor. She hesitated over the body of one of the dead. A small, curly haired, freckled boy. "Shouldn't we burry them o-or something?"

Everyone was silent.

Two had perished in the fall. At his feet was a tiny, dark skinned girl with an afro twice the size of her head. She had fallen next to Overseer, he remembered that. As she reached to pull her cord it got tangled around her neck. She was dead before she even hit the ground. Now, her face was blue and her hazel eyes bulged out of her head as if she'd just been shocked.

Her jacket said Elite Subject Silhouette. As the others argued about what to do, he kneeled beside her. To an outsider watching, he might've looked like a crestfallen stranger, distraught over the loss of a fellow poor, helpless teen. In reality, Overseer was rooting through her bag. Matches, rations, a hairbrush, her folder and a bow with a quiver of arrows. He pocketed the first three and hesitated over the bow.

 _Sniper rifle, bow... there might be some similarities there._ He shrugged, agreeing internally that it was better to have surplus of weapons than to be with out. He shoved it in his bag along with the other items, zipping it quickly and rising to his feet to rejoin the ongoing debate.

"I'm saying we burry them. It could've just as easily been one of us lying on the ground with out a heart beat. Wouldn't you all want to be buried?" The blonde asked the group, swinging her arms wildly as she demanded an answer.

No one spoke. It was to real, they didn't want to face the death before them. The girl was right, it could've been any of them, and it could still be. That was what was terrifying.

Some one spoke. "Burry the dead and their souls cannot be free." Overseer turned his attention to the tall girl with white hair and soft green eyes... Echo. She said the words slowly and methodically as if it was a lyric or a common haunted phrase in her vocabulary.

"We don't have enough time for a funeral." Azrael said, ignoring Echo.

Overseer couldn't ignore her. "What does that even mean?"

Her head snapped towards him, meeting him with piercing, wise eyes. "Maybe we are doing them a favor by not burying them. A coffin is as good as a cage."

Overseer nodded, "Ok…" he trailed.

He couldn't help but wonder who all these people were and why each of them had been chosen by WICKED to carry out this task.

"This is ridiculous. We aren't going to burry these people we don't know. We need to go. Now." Bear ordered.

"Have some heart." the Blonde pleaded.

Bear looked down at her feet. Overseer could feel the thought process going through her, the battle of right and wrong tugging on her morality. Survival or humanity.

A different girl, Mirage, stepped in for her, "I'm leaving right now, and anyone who wants to come can."

"But-" Blondie tried to protest, but Mirage had already grabbed her bag and begun jogging off towards the other side of the hill.

Overseer shouldered his bag. It was a idiotic thing they just did, wasting precious time for an argument when there was a mob coming for them just a few minutes away. The people had slipped beyond Overseers sight, but he was sure if he made his way over to the other side of the mountain top, he would see them still charging at full speed.

He couldn't control the adrenaline and fear that laced its way through his veins.

"We should run." He called out as everyone began making there way off the mountain. "Fast."

He was one of the last down, him and the boyish kid with the terrifying nickname, Reaper.

"You think those guys will kill us?" Reaper asked.

Overseer nodded, "Yep."

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She was Vixen, and at the moment, she was running as fast as she could.

It took her a second to realize the entirety of their situation. As the group argued over the bodies she stared at the cloud of dust that began picking up as the hoard got closer. She knew they should run, or at least prepare to fight, but she was frozen.

Frozen in fear... not her proudest moment.

Now as they charged down the hill, the same level of dust flung through the air. Vixen could barely see, the sand and the wind cut into her eyes. It wouldn't have been any easier if she had goggles because all that was in front of her was the dirt picked up by the kid running just a few feet ahead of her.

Vixen kept glancing behind her making sure that the hoard hadn't made it over the hill yet. As she looked back in front of her, she lost her footing. She fell forward, crashing into a tall boy's back. She recognised him as Titan. The curly haired boy with, what seemed to be, an entirely metal arm. She wasn't quite sure why he had this arm or if he had a real arm under it, but now wasn't the time to ask questions.

She was falling again. Her torso collided into Titan's back. Her nose crashed into his skull. He dove into the sad prosthetic shoulder first. Suddenly he was on top of her, his back pressing down on her rib cage. Then she was on top of him with her mangled mane of fire truck hair blindfolding both of them.

They finally came to a stop after what felt like years of rolling down the rest of the hill.

Vixen groaned in pain. Her back was pressed into the warm sand with her hair sprayed across the floor. As her vision cleared she could make out the boy, lying next to her.

"Are you ok?" Titan asked, rubbing his head.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Vhat about you?" She asked in her thick Russian accent. After all, she did run into him.

"Just great." He muttered.

The others were a solid minute behind them, and still no sign of the mob. "It's going to take them a second." Vixen told him, "maybe we should keep going and find a place to-"

"Whoa." Titan breathed as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Vha-" Vixen looked to where his eyes were pointed.

In front of them was a city. Sky scrapers, subway booths, bridges, cute little shops with umbrellas waiting outside the doors, shading customers while they ate their bagels. A mall that could've fit a small town inside of it. Cars would've sped across the well-paved roads. At night street lights would lit up the city like stars. Thousands and thousands of people would've lived here. They would've run around town shopping for flowers and going to business meetings. They would've built their lives there. Loved people there. Lived great lives in that city.

Now it was covered and sand.

And no one was alive there.

Now the walls were covered in graffiti and blood. They warned her to "Turn back now" and that "The dead live here".

Now the cars were stalled in the middle of the sand coated streets, with the windows smashed out and tires buried a foot deep.

The street signs had bent as easily as trees blowing in the wind.

And no one was alive there.

"It must've been a great city." Titan muttered.

Vixen bit her lip and nodded slowly, "Must've been."

She glanced behind her again. Still no sign of the hoard. But she could see smoke from the top of the plateau. They would definitely make their way down.

The others were only a few meters behind them

"Vee should hide somewhere now!" She yelled, "Before they see us!"

Vixen forced her mind off the cityscape. If they didn't tuck themselves away in one of the abandoned places now, they'd surely be spotted. Other than the plateau, it was a pretty flat desert.

""""""""""

He didn't want them to follow him. Azrael was not trying to be the Captain of this sinking ship.

When the redhead suggested that they hide, he thought that was a good idea. He came to a brief stop, letting his eyes wander over the remains of the once great city. There were plenty of small shops, outlet malls, skyscrapers, apartments, a hospital or two. But he needed some where practical, and he needed something close. The smartest thing the red head had said was to hide before the mob came over the hill. If they didn't know where they hid, the hoard would hopefully pass the small group with out a fight.

His eyes stopped on a large, cream colored building. It was a supermarket, he could tell by the two stray shopping carts outside.

Azrael wasn't thinking about the best for the group, he was thinking, "I could hide there _and_ find deodorant". He swerved to the left and headed towards the building. Sure enough, 11 people followed behind him.

He rolled his eyes.

The building had a pair of glass double doors, amazingly still intact, and a large red sign on the front.

Target.

He threw them open and charged right through. Sure enough, 11 people came in right after him.

It was huge.

It was marvelous.

Racks of clothes. Shelves of food. Red carts.

Of course most of the store had been looted, but there was still an abundance of things left.

Azrael seriously thought he could live there.

"Close the door." He ordered, not even looking back to see if anyone listened to him.

He was awestruck by the place in front of him.

Target. Who knew it'd be so amazing?

"What now?" A girl with short brown hair asked, breaking the silence.

No one answered. Azrael looked around, realizing that a large portion of the group was looking at him.

He shrugged, "I have no idea."

"Let's go to that back corner. No one can see us back there. We'll hide out for an hour or two and then once we're sure the people are gone, we'll look around." Mirage said. Azrael remembered that girl.

"Yah, that." Azrael mutter.

The group followed her into the depths of the super store, but he stayed put. His feet melted into the ground. He was staring at the sign at the top of the store. A dog. Spot. Spot was its name. He used to stare at that sign when he walked into the store. His mom would yank on his arm and tell him they didn't have a lot of time. Maybe they had a party to go to, or his dad would be home soon for dinner. Maybe she had to meet her friends in an hour for lunch. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He could only guess why they were in a hurry.

He couldn't even make out his mom's face.

"Azrael, are you ok?" A girl asked. Her name was Jinx maybe.

He nodded, "yah, I'm coming. Give me a second"

As he walked away, he couldn't help but look at the sign as long as he could. It meant something to him. A few moments with his mom, maybe a snack, or a toy from the toy isle. That memory made his chest ache for some one, he was longing for something, his family or his childhood. But he knew nothing personal about it. He could't even make out his own profile. It was like watching a movie with out a single face, name, location, time, age, object, or feeling.

Azrael trudged on with his head down, hands in his pockets, staring at his shoes.

Rage slowly boiled inside him. The thought that everyone would be looking to him right then for guidance when he didn't know anything! That infuriated him even more.

He tried to breathe, to rationalize that the kids were just as scared as him. He had to stay calm.

The group had come together way in the back, hidden in the toddlers clothes isle next to the bathrooms.

They sat in a circle, all 12 of them.

Azrael scanned their faces. Dirty, bruised, terrified.

"So," Azrael started, breaking the silence that had fallen among the teens. He wanted his memories back. He knew that for sure."Who is this Crank King and how do we kill him?"


	5. Memory and Life or Nothing at All

New update! There probably won't be another one for a few days, I'm going to another camp. Thanks for the reviews, though a lot of you didn't say anything. I hope you all still read it. And if you didn't enjoy it or you didn't like it, just let me know. Honestly I can handle criticism or you telling me that I am writing your character wrong. Remember, this chapter, the two before, and the next one will introduce every character. So, if your character has a small roll or isn't in it at all, or introduced as "that guy with..." don't worry, they were either already introduced or going to be introduced next chapter. PLEASE REVIEW :)

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"Who is this Crank King and how do we kill him?" Azreal asked as he found himself a spot in the circle.

Razor crinkled her nose, raising a thin eye brow in the direction of the angelic boy who had dubbed himself the leader by matter of circumstance. This guy had already rubbed her wrong by not burying the bodies of the dead teens. But now this whole "I'm the boss thing"? That wasn't going to slide.

"Slow down their buddy. Who says we're just going to do what WICKED orders?" She challenged, crossing her arms. The image of the dead boy flashed in her head. Elite subject Arrow. Brown eyes and freckles on his cheeks. He choked on his own blood right there in her arms. She watched the life leak from his eyes painfully.

She uncrossed her arms slowly, placing them on the ground to steady her self.

"Don't you want your memories back?" Azreal asked.

Razor wasn't sure she wanted any memories at all.

Echo spoke for her, "This world is cruel. I can't imagine we will like the memories we receive." Her pearly green eyes stared at one spot in the center of the circle as she spoke as if it had hypnotized her.

Razor nodded in agreement. She wasn't sure how she felt about that girl either, the best thing Razor could describe her as was the off spring of an elven queen and a circus freak. But the blonde haired, blue eyed girl wasn't trying to kick anyone off her side. She needed the support.

"Maybe getting our memories back isn't worth fighting this guy." Steelshot said.

"Maybe this guy is a little bitch and we could kill him in a second." A lusciously brown haired boy piped up. Razor didn't know his name.

"We have no idea how dangerous he is, and we can't assume. It just seems easier to start over again with no memories." Bear added.

"But we supposedly have these bad ass abilities. Why not use them." The boy shot. Maybe his name was Ripper?

Bear crossed her arms, "I have no idea how to fight with a machete, but if you do I'd _love_ some pointers." She sneered.

"Oh yeah, I'll show you how to fight, the old fashion way. You use your machete and I'll take you down with just my fists." The boy hollered.

Bear pushed her self to her feet and the boy did that same.

"I don't need the blade. You against me. I'll even leave a hand behind my back to make things fair." Bear spat, each word was a poison.

The short brown haired girl, Mirage, sprang to her feet before the boy could move forward.

"Guys! This is ridiculous." Mirage stated, breaking up the petty argument.

"Get out of the way Pipsqueak." The boy ordered.

"Oh, what the hell did you say?" She demanded.

"Cut it out, all of you!" A new voice piped up.

Razor looked to the flaming red head, Vixen. Her voice had overcome the group and forced them into a momentary silence.

"If vee are going to think this through vee at least need to be civilized, so all of you sit down." She spoke.

No one moved.

"Sit down!" Vixen yelled.

The trio returned to their respective spots in the circle while muttering curse words under their breath.

"Better." She said with a satisfied smile.

"Ok... anyways, I think the best option is to start up a life away from WICKED." Razor said, restarting the conversation. Her voice was calm and constant, letting the others know that she had not intention to start a fight.

"So losing our identities forever is better then at least trying to do what WICKED wants?" Echo asked.

"What the hell, I thought you were team No Memories?" She demanded, throwing up her arms and disregarding the calm and constant voice.

The white haired girl turned to Razor, keeping a calm expression. "I'm team Think Both Options Through Entirely and Make the Right Decision. Not choose what's easiest."

"I want my memories." Azreal boomed over everyone else. "I want to know what my parent's named me and what my mom's face looked like. WICKED said they gave us fighting abilities, so why not use them?"

"Because we could die." Razor stated.

"If we don't fight we lose everything." Azreal shot back.

"I want my memories too." A quiet voice informed the group. The attention turned to Overseer, the Asian boy with the giant sniper rifle sticking out of his backpack. "There were people that I loved. I want to know who they were and why they made me so happy."

Razor pursed her lips. He had a point. And with that string of words being the most he'd said for the few hours that they'd known each other, she considered it heavily.

 _Who do I love?_

"That lady said she was watching us always." Mirage cut in. "They want us to kill this guy and if we don't then we are useless to them. WICKED will kill us. The way I see it, we don't have any choice but to do this. I don't think they were giving us any options. I think the memories is just a bit more motivation."

"Memory and Life or nothing at all. Great freaking deal." Razor muttered.

""""""""""""""""

He thought his words through carefully. It was a large group and, and while Marshal respected everyone's points, he was tired of hearing everyone repeat themselves.

"I want my memories."

"I don't want to fight the Crank King."

It was the same thing over and over.

The only thing that was getting through to everyone was the German girls loud voice, and that was only to break up arguments.

He'd been an active listener through out the whole process, but not one word had left his lips. He stuck by the belief that fewer well thought through words were better than many impulsive ones. He'd considered both sides, weighted the pros and cons and come up with a final stance.

By that point, most people were on the Kill the Crank King side, but Marshal had a few final persuasive words.

"I don't know if my life was good before this." He spoke up. "I don't know if I want my memories or not. I could go on as Marshal for the rest of my life without needing to know my real name. We could settle down together or split up and find our own ways through this world. We have no real connections, so nothing would be lost.

"But WICKED isn't going to just let us go. I don't know how I know this, but I do. WICKED doesn't give things up. We have to kill him, or we have to spend the rest of our lives hiding." As he finished, his eyes scanned the group.

Everyone was silent for a moment, taking in his words.

Azreal was the first to speak "I am going to kill the Crank King. I have a sword and apparently I'm good at using it." he said. He pushed himself to his feet. "If anyone wants to come with me, you are welcome to it."

"We're staying together. We're all going or we're all not going." Mirage said, standing up beside him.

"Um no, I am going regardless." Azreal insisted.

"Just wait a second to see what everyone else decides."

"Fine." Azreal scoffed, "Are we doing this?"

They all looked at each other.

Marshal was ready. He had two twin pistols and he was very interested in testing out this top quality aim his folder had talked about.

"I'm down to murder a king." He said.

A few others nodded in agreement. Some of them even came up with their own witty remarks. But that wasn't the focus. The attention was on Razor, the girl who had protested the loudest.

She stared at the WICKED issued, army grade, black combat boots on her feet. It scared her, the thought of killing this man. The girl was prideful; Marshal could see that, she didn't want the others to know that she feared for their safety because she was slowly beginning to be attached to these people and because she valued her own life. Not only was she prideful, but she was warm hearted and kind, something she might try to hide under a layer of sarcasm and flinging insults.

Razor looked up, her stormy blue eyes searching each member of the group. Everyone had an opinion, but in the end, she protested the loudest against the majority. It was really up to her. Not the final decision, but whether or not tey continued to argue.

She bit her lip, her eyes shook but she masked her feelings with a monotone voice."Fine. Let's kill the Crank King."

'''''''''''''''

They'd decided to leave the next morning. Everyone was instructed to pack their bags with whatever they could carry. Food, supplies, extra clothes, etc. They were also instructed to change out of their uniforms. The matching WICKED suits were a dead give away. They needed to be more discreet.

Jinx glided carefully towards the women's aisle. She surveyed the piles of clothes. Racks of long sleeved sheet button downs, sequenced shirts that definitely belonged in the little girls section, a variety of baggy night gowns and an assortment of way to short mom shorts.

A stack of plain colored t-shirts caught her eye, an olive green one in particular. There was a single one left. She almost was too scared to check the size. Her hand grabbed it and folded the green cotton slowly. Jinx practically shook as she read the tag.

She nearly laughed. A size small.

The way the world worked made no sense to her.

 _Stranded and alone, left with no memories, but given the right size shirt._ She looked up to the ceiling, "Thanks a lot." She hissed as she pulled the shirt from its pile.

"Pretty." Some one said in an almost whisper.

"Wha—oh hi!" Jinx said, jumping in surprise. It was the tall, lean, white haired girl. "I didn't even hear you coming."

"I just changed, I thought maybe you'd want some company." Echo said.

"Um, yeah, of course." Jinx nodded.

Echo wasn't lying, she'd changed completely. She'd gone from a tight pony tail and an all black WICKED uniform to something completely different. She was now wearing a loose pair of light wash, high wasted, Levi shorts and an airy white shirt, with a grey zip up hoodie over top. The front strands of her hair were pulled back into a small braid that met at the back of her head in a woven crown with a few pieces cascading in from of her face. The other sections were wavy and free, with what seemed to be two long thin feathers earrings clipped in right next to the braid in the back. One was turquoise and the other was grey, complimenting her green eyes.

Jinx looked at her feet, they were entirely bare other than a small beaded, rope bracelet tied around her right ankle.

"Are you going to get some shoes?" Jinx asked.

Echo furrowed her dark eyebrows, "I... I didn't think I needed any."

"Oh… ok." Jinx chuckled nervously. Echo had a unique atmosphere around her. It was hard for Jinx to place her finger on it. She seemed so smart and exotic, but also… fearless. She was intimidating with out really meaning to be at all.

"Are you looking for some clothes?" Echo asked.

Jinx nodded, "I found this green shirt, and this jacket, I was just looking for some jeans. And shoes of course."

Echo looked down at her tan feet, "Do I need shoes?"

Jinx laughed, "I mean, I don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure shoes are important.

The left corner of Echo's mouth turned up into the smallest grin. "I don't know why I thought I didn't need them. Maybe I didn't usually wear shoes before this."

"I don't know why you wouldn't wear them, but maybe," Jinx chuckled.

"Can you pick some out for me?" Echo asked in a small voice.

Jinx nodded. "Let me find some jeans, and then I'll help you."

Jinx had picked Echo out a pair of off brand converse and some grainy grey socks. They decided to go to the changing room together. Echo had already changed, but Jinx really didn't want to go alone.

The small stalls in the back of the store were nearly pitch black. With no electricity and no windows it was almost impossible to see. Luckily, Jinx had thrown a few flashlights in her bag in preparation for when they left the Target, but she guessed she could use it now.

The beam of light illuminated parts of the room. She pointed it at the plastic red doors that would've been filled with women at one point, staring at themselves in long mirrors.

"I don't really see a good place to do this." Jinx muttered, taking a hesitant step into the dark room.

"Just change out here, I'll stand watch." Echo said.

She considered that for a moment. Changing in the open didn't feel right to."I think I'll just take a few steps into the room." Jinx responded.

Echo shrugged, "I'll stand watch either way.

She put on the outfit quickly, not wanting to get caught with her pants down… literally. As she pulled her leg through the final jean slot, she looked up at the mirror.

"You done?" Echo called.

"Gimme a second." Jinx called back.

She couldn't help it, Jinx was staring at herself.

She was short, but not incredibly short, 5'3 or 5'4 maybe. Her body was slim, but not skinny. Her skin was tanned and her cheeks were dotted with orange freckles. Her cinnamon brown hair was short and choppy, like it had been poorly cut with a kitchen knife. She liked it though, the messiness fit her.

Jinx took a step closer to the mirror.

"You alive in there?"

Jinx said nothing.

It was hard to tell from only the light of the flashlight, but she was pretty sure her eyes were grey. She liked that; grey was mysterious, but still elegant.

Hours could've past with her just staring at her self. She wasn't full of her self, or a horrible narcissist. She was simply intrigued.

"Jinx..?"

"Yah, hold on." She called as she snapped back to reality. She straightened up and shone the flash light at the mirror one last time, just to make she was satisfied with the outfit.

She liked the way she looked. As a female human, she wasn't ashamed to admit that she was a bit scared that she might not be happy with her appearance. Maybe that made her a bad person (though she didn't think it did), but in the end, she was pleased with her self.

In fact, she was beyond pleased. Jinx was beautiful.

She smiled at her self in the mirror.

"Jinx?" Echo called one more time.

"Hold on, let me tie me shoes."

She bent down to lace up the shin length combat boots she'd picked out for her outfit.

As she came back up, a horrid scream escaped from her pale pink lips.

A face had appeared behind her.

It cackled, a low, deliberate laugh.

Then it lunged.


	6. Please Help Me Chop This Tree Down

Alright our last specific POV chapter, all of the characters will be introduced by now! Sorry for the long wait, camp was crazy and school is starting. Life is hitting me hard right now! I didn't get a lot of feed back for the last chapter, please let me know what you're thinking! I hope everyone likes this update a bit more, it's longer and I enjoyed writing it a lot. Let's get some real action going! Review please!

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The peculiar thing about the life she was living was the fact that Echo had accepted it.

No memory.

No family.

No clue what was going on.

Her folder had revealed the thin girl was an expert in stealth, agility and speed. Her kills were supposed to be clean and quick. The folder told her she could do extraordinary things, flips, kicks higher than her head, tumbles, it told her she could move silently and walk with perfect balance.

It also told her she wasn't strong; she needed to be careful of fighting larger opponents and had to use her speed to her advantage. It told her she wasn't meant for open battle or one on one combat against better trained opponents.

And Echo accepted it.

She couldn't picture her self doing a flip, she didn't even know how she would start one, but she believed the folder.

Or, at least, she wanted to believe the folder.

She'd been given three things as a weapon. A jagged, stone dagger, sharpened on both edges. It had a 6 or 7 inch blade and a hilt wrapped in twine, with a leather strip hanging off it that was covered in beads and a single grey feather.

the other two things were poles, probably 2 and a half feet each, with a diameter of about an inch and a half. One of the poles had a stone blade on the top, in an arrowhead shape. Right below the 6 inch blade were 3, beaded, leather strips, each with an assortment of feathers tied into the beads.

Echo thought they might connect together some how.

"Jinx…?" She tried again, attempting to screw the parts together. She was definitely making progress. The key to connecting them was a twisting motion, but which way?

"Yah, hold on." The shorthaired girl responded.

"Ah! I got it!" She cheered quietly to herself, as she connected the weapon into a large, 5 foot 6 inch spear. The tip of the blade was at her eye level. "Woah." Echo breathed taking in the weapon.

She peered at the carvings on the side of the spear, then at the carvings on the blade of the knife. On each part of the weapon there was a common thing; a string of words.

Enapay, Kohana, Wahkan. Wanageeska.

"Jinx?" She tried again. Echo wasn't impatient, just a bit bored.

"Hold on, let me tie my shoes." The girl called back.

Echo looked back down at her weapons.

On the knife, the first three words were on one side, then the last on the other side. On the spear they were all in a row.

What did they mean?

Enapay, Kohana, Wahkan. Wanageeska.

She sighed. Maybe if she could figure out what that meant she could learn a little more about herself.

The girl sunk down against the wall, letting her back rub against it the whole way down. Her eyes ached from holding in sadness and frustration: they pleaded for a few moments of blissful sleep. Maybe she would award herself that pleasure for just one moment…

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

The noise split through the air, rattling deep with in Echo's bones.

"Jinx? Jinx!" Echo called. There was no response. The only thing she heard was a thumping against the wall. She jumped to her feet, snatching the knife and running in the direction of the scream.

It was hard to make out anything. The flashlight was some where on the ground, shining a bright beam of yellow light onto the right wall of the room. Echo could just make out the silhouette of a person (presumably a man by the broad shoulders) on top of Jinx.

The pixie looking girl struggled below him. She lashed out at his face but he was too strong. He managed to force her hands down with his elbows and use his free hands to wrap his fingers around her thin neck. He tightened his grasp, forcing the air from her throat and not allowing it to return.

Echo was frozen. She watched as the girl, a stranger to her really, gasped for any sliver of a breath.

"Eh-eh..co!" Jinx managed.

The mangled sound broke the ice from Echo's legs. It was like instinct, she didn't know what came over her. She lunged towards the man and grabbed his shoulders yanking him backwards.

He stumbled back and crashed into the wall.

A Crank sure enough, but he wasn't too far Gone. His flesh was still pink and intact; his eyes were still a warm brown hue with plenty of life in them.

Why was he attacking them? And how was Echo able to identify a Crank so easily?

Jinx lay on the ground petrified by terror. The man dove at her again but Echo was ready. She side stepped him and grabbed his shirt collar from behind, wrenching back on his neck. He flew backwards towards her. She let go of his collar and elbowed him hard in the nose. The man cried out, but did not hesitate. He swung at her with his fist but she caught it easily. She twisted his arm and drove her dagger into his stomach.

He doubled over from the pain, and Echo took the opportunity to round house kick him in the jaw.

His head snapped back and blood flew from his nose.

With his neck exposed, Echo shot forward, dragging her jagged dagger across the vulnerable flesh that stretched over his neck.

Thick, red blood peaked out from the cut, and then it was gushing all at once. The Crank crashed to the floor motionless. The vile, yet life sustaining liquid seeped into the grey speckled, generic carpet, branding it as the place of a murder.

Echo stared at him, breathing heavily. Her left arm, the one that had done the killing, fell to her side uselessly. A single drop of blood fell onto her shoe.

"What the hell?!" Jinx demanded. Her hands caressed her bruised neck carefully.

"I think I killed him." Echo whispered. Her shoulders heaved. She sucked in deep breaths. "I…I killed him Jinx."

"It's ok Echo." Jinx insisted, forcing her self to sit up.

The tall girl bit her lip, still staring at the body.

"Echo, look at me. Look at me."

She forced her eyes away from the man and into the gaze of the brown haired teen sitting on the floor.

"Echo, tell me how you did that." Jinx ordered softly.

"I-I… I have no idea."

"What is your weapon? Or your... um, your Elite Ability thing?"

"Spear and a thin dagger. My sheet talked a lot a-about melee. Kicks and jabs, and reach and what not. Agile, stealthy, fast." She recited the words with out hesitation, without even blinking. "But… but I didn't…that wasn't—" She looked at the body again, then at Jinx, "That wasn't me Jinx, I don't know how to do things like that. I kicked him in the face. I slit his throat without thinking twice."

Jinx was silent. Her eyes held a feeling of shock and fear that Echo assumed was partly due to her attempted strangling and partly due to Echo's own abilities.

"So this is what WICKED gave us? In exchange for our memories?" Jinx asked slowly.

"Oh God. Oh God." Echo sputtered. She sank to her knees and doubled over. Her eyes watered. She was either going to cry or vomit, or both.

"Nonononono," Jinx hurried, scrambling over to her, "Don't puke, keep it together. Please. Just think happy thoughts."

Echo wanted to scream, she wanted to laugh out loud at the idea of having happy thoughts, she wanted to rip her stupid white hair out and curl up into a ball. But she didn't, she couldn't do that. Instead, she took 3 deep breaths and picked a lock of hair to braid and rebraid.

"You're right, let's just forget about it." She spoke steadily.

"Yah, that's the spirit." Jinx managed, slightly taken aback by the sudden calmness.

"Can we just get out of this room though?" Echo asked.

"Yah, let's just walk out of here and go find some people and… and yah, let's just leave."

Echo forced a small fake small: her default face. "Are you ok Jinx? Did he hurt you?"

"Just fine." The brunette muttered. Her mind was somewhere else, Echo could sense that the gears in her head were turning faster than usual.

"What's up?" She asked after a period of unsettling silence.

"If there was one crank..." Jinx trailed.

"What?" Echo pushed.

"If there was one crank" Jinx looked up and took Echo's green eyes in her own grey ones, "Then there could be more."

The fact struck her, it was so obvious nad yet Echo would've never thought of that.

"We need to get out of here. We need to warn everyone."

Jinx jumped to her feet and offered Echo a hand, "C'mon, we need to hurry."

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Everyone else thought they had it bad?

When Major Greene began hollering for them all to wake up, he had been confused and disoriented just like the others. But while everyone else was busy racking his or her brain for a name or a memory, Titan was freaking out about the shiny hunk of titanium stuck to his arm.

Well, not so much stuck to his arm, more like… it was his arm. When he wanted to squeeze his fingers, the metal fingers squeezed, when he wanted his arm to bend, the metal elbow would fold at the joint, but it wasn't his.

No memories, one arm. It was an odd day.

"Hey, if you're looking for a t-shirt there are some nice black ones over here." Some one called, snapping Titan out of his internal thought.

"Hmm?" Titan hummed spinning around to find the blond haired kid, Azreal, poking around a stack of black Henley t-shirts.

"Oh, thanks man. I'll pick one of those up."

"No problem." Azrael shrugged.

Titan had noticed that the teens were all starting to warm up to each other and form a few bonds. That seemed… healthy, Titan liked the idea of them depending on each other.

He tried to scramble up another conversation for the two of them to carry out. He needed it to keep going, to talk about something normal. To _feel_ normal.

"So have you—"

"Hey! Guys!" Two girls rushed into the men's section, both of them changed into new clothes. They were wide eyed and slightly sweaty.

"Woah, what's up?" Titan asked, holding out his flesh arm to stop the smaller one, Jinx, from tripping over her self.

"We… just… crank… in the… changing room… tried to kill… me…. Echo… killed…" Jinx panted.

"A Crank tried to kill her in the changing room. I killed it." Echo said in a monotone.

"What?" Titan demanded looking both of them up and down. He honestly wasn't sure if he was more shocked by the news or the 5ft, 6 inch spear she was carrying along and the dagger strapped to her upper thigh.

"Shit." Azrael breathed, "Are you guys ok?"

Jinx nodded, sucking in a few more breaths. "Fine. I just don't know if it's safe here." She looked around apologetically, as if she would've offended some one with her words.

"What do you mean?" Titan asked.

"If one got in, maybe more could. It just doesn't seem safe." Jinx explained.

Azrael pursed his lips. "What better options do we have?"

"I-I don't know." She admitted, "It 's just… there could be more."

Azrael clenched his fists. Titan could feel the gears turning in his head as he contemplated the different options.

"Hey, why don't I go board the doors? I'll get some one to help me." Titan suggested.

Azrael nodded, flashing a quick smile of gratitude. "Good idea. I'll stay here with them; you get some people to help you."

Titan nodded.

"Just don't freak everyone out, ok? And stay quiet."

Titan nodded again, "Of course."

" " " " "

Titan found a group lying down in what seemed like the remnants of the chip isle.

There were two empty shelves on either side of the teens. Six of them, Reaper, Razor, Vixen, Marshal, Overseer and Steelshot, lay in a pile on the floor; each of them had their head on a swapped backpack.

"I bet I'm like 16 or 17." Razor said as she shoved her hand into a tube of BBQ Pringles.

"No way, you're 19 at least." Steelshot argued.

"You think I'm that old?" Razor asked.

"Yah."

"No, no. Vee are all between the ages of 15 to 18." Vixen cut in.

"How do you know that?" Razor asked.

Vixen shrugged, "I guessed."

Razor threw her head back in a laugh, "You're full of bullshit Russian."

Vixen frowned at first, but joined her in the laugh.

"Hey guys…" Titan cut in.

The group moved their attention to him. "What up?" Razor asked.

"I was wondering.—"

"Have you looked through your backpack yet?" Reaper interrupted, tossing a sour cream and onion Pringle into his mouth.

"Uh, no I haven't. I just looked at my folder."

"There is some really cool stuff in each one of ours. Vixen found a medical kit. I have like four tubes of this blue stuff. It says "for The Changing". Razor dared me to drink it, but I backed down. It looked freaky."

Titan frowned, "Don't drink it, it could be useful. Anyway, can one—"

"Just check your bag right now." Razor ordered, "you could have something useful in there too."

"I'll do it later, we need to go bar up the door. Can one of you help me?"

Reaper jumped to his feet. "Let Marshal and I do that. You check your bag."

Titan sighed. He wasn't sure if he should trust the two of them with such an important job. Reaper seemed somewhat careless, and well, he didn't know what to think of Marshal. The tall messy haired boy was impossible to read. But he didn't want to be rude, and they had a point; maybe he did have something useful.

"Fine, just be quiet." He warned.

"Of course bud, we'll be silent as a pair of mice." His eyes twinkled as the short boy spoke.

Titan rolled his eye as the pair hopped away.

He swung his backpack off his shoulder and flipped up the top flap. It smelled like dust and old closests, the kind you'd find in your grandparents room. When he first opened up the bag it was empty besides the folder. Even now, stuffed full of food and water bottles, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be in the bag.

Titan was about to close the bag when a small wad of paper caught his eye.

His metal arm snaked its way into the bag and picked it up carefully.

The paper wasn't nearly as crisp or neat as the one in the folder. It was a wrinkled, mustard colored, section of notebook paper with a message scrawled on it.

 _Check Denver._

Titan shook his head, "What the fuck WICKED?" He demanded in a whisper.

He was so tired of being messed with.

"""""""""

"You know, I think I'm pretty good at talking to girls. Maybe I could set you up with one." Reaper called to Marshal between handfuls of melted M&Ms.

Marshal looked over at him expressionless. He said nothing.

"Razor is cute. I mean all of them are pretty. But I think Mirage is too short for you, and Bear kinda scares me. Jinx is adorable and so sweet, but I think she'd be too nice for you. Echo's kinda got the unique vibe to her, which you might like, but I feel like she would go for like 50 year old men… or like animals or something weird. Vixen is a redhead and I get the sense that isn't your thing." Reaper looked up at him. His face was blank. "Or maybe it is." He said with a shrug, "I really can't tell."

"I'm not looking for a girl." Marshal said.

"Sure you are. Who isn't? I'm not kidding I'm really good at talking to them. They just don't make me nervous." Reaper said.

Marshal sighed, "Can we just bar this door in silence?"

They stopped at the front of the store. The two double doors that lead to the outside were still very much intact. It didn't look like anyone had opened them.

"Why do we need to do this? I mean, who is going to come in?" Reaper asked.

Marshal shrugged, "More importantly, how are we going to do this?"

"Maybe we could get a bunch of belts and tie them around the handles."

"Or we could put couches in front of the glass."

"But we're just going to leave in like 10 hours."

Marshal sighed again, "I didn't decide to do this, you did."

"Fine, I'm going to tie up the handles."

"Some one could just break in through the glass though."

Reaper stomped his foot on the ground, "Well then I guess we do nothing!" He yelled up to the ceiling.

"Hey, cut that out. Titan told us to be quiet."

"Or what?" Reaper tested.

"Just chill ok, we'll figure this out."

Reaper nodded, "Yah yah, I'll cool it."

"Just… uh… just look around here for something to cover the glass."

"Ok, I'll go do that."

He walked towards the aisles, hoping to find a table or the shopping carts.

"Um… uh R-reaper. Reaper, get over here."

"Why?" Reaper asked not turning around.

"Just get over here." Marshal hissed.

Reaper rolled his eyes and made his way to the doors where Marshal was standing, mouth agape.

"What do you—"

Reaper saw it. It was a man. Standing still, looking in through the glass door. His only article of clothing was a linen cloth over his privates. His chest was completely exposed and covered in symbols, painted on in red and orange colors. On his face he wore a mask made of what looked to be white wood and twine, with eye hallows for him to see.

Reaper took a step closer, staring at the man. His black hair was twisted into long dread locks, and Reaper imagined he smelt like he'd been rotting in the ground for a week and a half.

He was staring at them distantly. Reaper stared back. He studied the man.

He stared longer and harder.

It wasn't white wood.

It wasn't white wood at all.

"Oh God!" He yelled, unable to stop himself. "Marshal! Oh god Marshal! That's a cannibal! Those are... that mask is..."

The loud noise startled the man. It was almost as if he hadn't seen them standing there before and the noise had some how awaken him. He began shouting something. His arms flailed around wildly and then he was sprinting towards them.

"M-Marshal. Marshal! MARSHAL! Shoot him! Shoot him!" Reaper screamed at the top of his lungs.

Quicker than Reaper expected, Marshal pushed him aside and aimed right at the man. He fired a shot, shattering the glass, ripping through the man's skull mask and then his actual skull.

The man dropped to the floor.

"Oh God, oh lord. Thank you. Oh my God." Reaper panted, with his hands on his knees.

"Um… Reaper." Marshal trailed.

"What?" The boy asked, looking up with his hazel eyes.

"There's like 30 more of them."

Reaper's head snapped up, "What?" He demanded.

Marshal just pointed outside. His finger lead Reaper's gaze outside. Sure enough, there were at least 2 , maybe 3, dozen more people charging towards the door. Each one was carrying a blunt weapon, dressed in very little clothes, and accessorised with human body parts.

"Oh. My. Fuck." Reaper gulped.

Marhsal nodded, "Yep, we're dead."


	7. Take Up Your Arms Sons and Daughters

ACTION! Everyone is in this chapter! I didn't think I could do it but I did and I really enjoyed writing it! I got a fair bit of constructive criticism last chapter and I loved that. I actually got a lot of conflicting views about Echo's inner monologue from last chapter. A few said they weren't fans of it an a couple people said they loved it. Go back and reading over I found it actually quite boring my self. It's easy to get carried away when I obviously know my own character better than I know any of yours. So thanks for pointing that out! Leave me feedback on this chapter to. Tbh, I did not do a lot of revising because is so long so sorry about gramatical errors or poorly structured sentences :(. Let me know!

""""""""""

CLANG!

Mirage's metal staff clattered against the hard tile floor. Her jaw fell open.

"I don't know, like 50 seconds away! C'mon! You guys! Snap out of it!" Reaper begged.

He had streaked through the hall like a balloon that some one had filled up and let go, hollering at the top of his lung.

"They're going to eat us!" He had cried. "Cannibals."

The Elites had stood silent, awed at their new predicament. How does some one react to that?

"Can we fight them?" Azrael asked, "How many are there?"

"30 at least." Marshal replied quickly.

Azrael nodded, "Ok. Spread out, force them into smaller groups."

"Shouldn't we stay close together?" Jinx asked quietly.

Razor nodded, twirling a switch blade between her fingers, "Yah strength in numbers and what not."

"No, we'll work better if we divide. That way we can focus on our separate abilities. Stay alert, stay spread out and stay alive." Azrael ordered.

"Scream if you need help." Mirage added.

The next moments went by in slow motion. The cannibals busted through the hallways. Shelves crashed to the floor behind them. Chips of paint and various grocery store goods from the dry food aisles flew through the air as at least 30 men and women charged towards the group of them like hungry lions coming in for a kill. Their hands were filled with wooden weapons: spears, blow darts, bow and arrows, even stone daggers.

A young man, body covered in white crackled paint that out lined his bones, notched and loaded a long bow.

"Move!" Azrael cried to the group, unleashing his golden hilted sword and motioning at the Elites.

A few of them scatter. Overseer bolted off to the left with his large sniper rifle, Razor pushed her way to the front armed with two switch blades, Marshal loaded his guns before ducking behind a shelf. The rest darted off in random order drawing clusters of Cannibals with them.

"Watch out!" Titan screamed. He took 3 steps to his left and lunged at Echo, knocking her to the floor as a crooked arrow thudded into wooden shelf right where her head had been.

Mirage glance down at her staff, she needed to move, or speak or breathe or something.

 _Bend down and pick it up._

"Here." Vixen snatched up the staff for her. "You're going to need this."

""""""""""""""

"No no no no." Reaper panic under his breath as he jogged away from the center of the Target. In his hand he gripped his two kama tightly in his hands. They were basically mini scythes that he was supposed to use to murder people. But that wasn't the worst of it. He felt unbelievably guilty for bringing the cannibals right to the other Elites. Now he was wandering towards the sporting good section alone, two blades clutched tightly in his palms, nervously searching for any signs of the enemy.

"Psst! Get out of the open kid!" Some one hissed.

Reaper stopped dead in his tracks. "Who is that?"

A head stuck out from behind the shelves of soccer balls and pumps. It was Overseer, the Asian sniper who had barely spoken.

"You're gunna be spotted. Come here." The boy spoke in a harsh whisper, checking over his shoulder constantly as Reaper jogged toward him.

"Why are you hiding over here?" Reaper asked.

Overseer was crouching on the ground doubled over his gun, "I'm not hiding, I'm picking these guys off one by one. I just need some help. I need you."

"No problem, you name it I can do it." Reaper smiled.

"Go stand out in the middle of the hall they way you were, like a blubbering idiot, and attract some cannibals to you. I'll smash a bullet into each of their skulls and then we're good."

Reaper furrowed his brow, "That's-"

"Dangerous? I thought you could do it?" Overseer asked with an expressionless face.

The dark haired boy took a step back, "I can do it." He insisted defensively, "I'm just saying-"

"Then go. And stomp around like an elephant the way you were earlier."

Reaper crossed his arm and stormed to the middle of the corridor muttering insults under his breath.

"I wasn't stomping around, I'm a freaking mouse." He bitched. Reaper looked around him, he didn't see any opponents, but he could make some noise if need be. "Wow! Good thing I'm in this hallway all ALONE!" Reaper cried.

He glanced to Overseer who was lying on his stomach next to his gun. The Asian American boy gave him a quick thumbs up and quickly returned his sights to his scope.

"Where are all the cannibals? Peeing their pants in the little girls room?" Reaper yelled at the ceiling, stomping around in a dramatic circle. He felt ridiculous, and no one was even com-

BANG! BANG!

Two shots fired one after another. Reaper whirled around to see two dead men only a few feet from him with weapons dropped carelessly to the ground.

"Holy shhhhite!" Reaper yelled jumping up. Overseer smiled at him and gave a small shrug. "That was amazing!"

"We got 'em." Overseer agreed. He began to push himself off his stomach when a large club swung upside his skull. A man had manifested behind him and smashed his head straight on.

Overseer crumbled to the ground with a small whimper of pain.

"Overse-" Reaper began to call out lurching forward.

A hand clamped over his mouth and an arm around his body, pinning him to another person. Reaper's weapons fell to the ground before he could even think to use them.

"Your'e an idiot boy." Reaper's captor bit at him.

The teen struggled against him but in was no use, before long he and Overseer were being dragged back down the hall from where he came.

""""""""

Bear darted to the right. As everyone separated she focused on a cluster of two men, one holding a spear and another holding a machete similar to her own.

She met them full speed.

CLANG!

Her metal blade ricocheted off of the taller man's. She ducked under his swing and dove to the left as the spear came hurtling towards her. Bear pushed her self to her feet. Her machete slashed at the taller man. He jumped backwards but regained his balance quickly. His fist buried itself in her nose before she could retaliate.

Pain burst through her face, numbing her nose and lips. She overcame it just in time to dodge the butt end of the shorter man's spear. She whipped around and cleaved at his stomach. Her blade bounce off a layer of armor made out of human bones and splintering wood.

"Oh God." She gulped, losing her stature for just long enough. The taller man grabbed a fistful of her thick, dark hair and yanked the tall girl backwards. She stumbled to the floor and some one was on her in a moments notice.

A fist made contact with her cheek twice before she was able to thrust the man off of her. She dove for him but the shorter man kicked out her feet before she could reach him.

She didn't fall to the ground though. Gripping her machete tightly, Bear managed to stay upright. Before long she regained her balance and sent a fury of swings towards the short man. He back up into a shelf, knocking down a box of cereal that bear cut clean through.

With no weapon in hand the man was her kill.

Bear smirked. "Go to hell."

A cold blade snaked its way around her neck.

"Not yet." The taller man whispered in an almost incomprehensible voice, holding her hostage.

"Let her go."

Marshal stood, feet spread apart, aiming both twin pistols at the back of a tall man's head. He could tell it was one of the elite girls in being held captive in his arms. From the height and dark hair he guessed the strong willed one, Bear.

The man turned slowly, Bear still in his arm with his machete pressed to his neck.

He let out a low, bellow of a laugh, "Ripper, remind this kid that we out number them."

A shorter man, one Marshal hadn't seen jumped out from behind the man and his hostage.

Marshal had quick reactions but was shocked by the new member. The man was able to snatched up a long wooden spear and chucked it at Marshal before he could move.

Just in time, the blue eyed teen tumbled to the his right, barely avoiding the spear.

The short man, Ripper, was one him quickly. Marshal fired a shot but the Ripper was able to smack his hand to the side, sending the bullet towards the ceiling.

"Aya, Fang, here!"

Ripper shoved Marshal to the ground and wrapped his finger around Marshal's throat.

Bear watched as her fellow Elite struggled for breath. Her captor was watching too, distracted by the scene in front of him. Bear to the opportunity to shove her elbow into his bicep. The machete clattered to the ground.

Marshal smashed his other pistol into Ripper's temple. The man cried out in pain. Marshal kicked him off and pushed himself to his feet. Bear had broken free as well.

Marshal ran to her. She was unarmed and slightly dazed but stood strong all the same.

Some one yanked the remaining pistol out of Marshal's hand. He hadn't been watching (he was focused on Bear) as Ripper stood back up. He had taken the pistol and was now pointed it right at Marshal's forehead.

"Stop moving girl or I'll shoot his brain out and then yours."

Bear looked at the man. Marshal backed into her.

Neither of them were armed.

Four cannibals surrounded them. Ripper, his tall friend, and a new pair, female and male.

"You seriously called for back up?" Marshal whined.

The tall man smirked.

"Fuck." Bear whispered.

Marshal looked at her, his eyes searching her own quickly and intensely. The girl knit her dark brows together. It was as if Marshal was trying to communicate through expression alone. As their captors closed in on them the sharp blue eyed boy made a bold move.

"Bear, Run!" He cried. He jerked his head right into the barrel of the gun throwing it to the ground before Ripper could pull the trigger.

Bear understood then. She didn't wait for anyone else to move. She turned on her heels and darted off quickly towards the back of the store, not waiting for Marshal or the cannibals. She swerved between aisles and ducked under racks, doing her best to avoid being spotted by anyone.

""""""""""""""""

"Titan! Get up!" Steelshot screamed.

The metal armed teen rolled off of Echo. Both of them groaned in pain as they took in their surroundings from the tile floor of the Target.

"Both of you, up. Now!" Steelshot orderd.

The three of them were the only ones left in the center of the store. The dive Titan had taken to save Echo from the arrow wasn't pleasant from either of them. Steelshot noticed that the weren't moving much, so while everyone else scrambled in different directions Steelshot ran towards them.

The Asian boy slid on the floor next to them, dodging a soaring arrow.

"Hey, get up! We need to go." He pushed Titan over so he was laying on his back. Echo pushed her self up just enough to make eye contact with Steelshot.

"Wha—"

Steelshot didn't want to wait any longer. He looked behind him. A muscular woman was charging towards them. Steelshot grabbed one of the many throwing knives given to him and sent it sailing into the woman's heart with perfect aim.

It was the first time he'd thrown one.

It was exactly where he wanted it to go.

How did he know how to do that?

He shook his head forcing himself out of the daze. His eyes returned to Echo and Titan.

"Up. Now." Steelshot rose to his feet and pulled Echo up with him, resting his arms under her armpits. Then he offered a hand to Titan.

The bionic teen refused, pushing him self up.

"Where are your weapons?" Steelshot demanded.

Titan looked at his arm. "Here." He said.

Echo pointed to a spear and backpack a few feet away. "There." She frowned.

"Fuck." Steelshot whispered. "Ok I'll go ge—" Before he could finish Echo took off. She literally flipped over a man's head, landing like a cat on her feet. He turned to her, a shocked expression on his face momentarily, and swung a dagger. She took a quick step back, dodging the blade. The girl then shoved her foot into his chest, causing him to stumble backwards, and then continued toward the bag.

She snatched up the burlap sack and spear with out stopping and continued in the same direction.

"C'mon!" She called to Titan and Steelshot over her shoulder.

Steelshot looked at Titan.

Titan shrugged.

They both darted off after Echo. Together the trio navigated through the aisles and halls, flying away from the middle of the store and the chaos of the group.

"Echo slow down!" Titan called. The metal armed boy was the slowest of the three of them, but Echo was a good 30 feet ahead of even Steelshot.

She didn't listen either way. She kept turning and weaving through the store.

A man jumped out in front of them. Echo saw him and skidded to a halt. He was big, very big. She was able to dodge one of his punches. She dove under him with a cocky smirk. She dodged the second as well but not the third. Before Steelshot and Titan were able to reach her she was flat on her back with a bloody nose.

If Steelshot was a worse person he would laugh at her.

Titan met the giant head on with his metal arm. He sent a blow to his face and another to his gut.

"You ok there cat woman?" Steelshot asked kneeling down next to Echo.

"Yah yah, I got a little a head of my self." Echo apologized with a crooked smile, cupping her nose. "I'll be up in a second. Go help."

Steelshot gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before jumping to his feet and flinging two knives into the giant's arm. Ttian landed a punch square in his nose and metal elbow in his cheek bone.

Steelshot lunged at the man, yanking the knives from his arm and sticking one into his thigh. The man cried out and knelt onto the ground. Titan smashed his foot into the man's throat and he crumpled to the ground.

The boys smiled at each other.

"Not bad for some rookies, huh?" Titan smiled.

"Not bad at all." Steelshot replied. He turned around. Three more had come up behind them. Two men, dressed entirely in bone, and a young woman, fairly small and actually kind of pretty. The men held a machete and a long dagger and the woman was unarmed.

Echo was back on her feet, standing at a low crouch, spear held tightly with both hands.

"3v3, not bad for some Elites." Steelshot muttered.

Before any of them moved, the woman took off in the opposite direction, ducking behind a row of shelves.

"Ok, 2v3. Even better." Titan smiled.

Echo moved first. She slid under the legs of one of the men and stuck the blade on her spear into his kidney. He cried out and clawed back at her, but he was stuck in place by her weapon. She yanked it out of him and spun the wooden pole in her hand before attempting to stab the other man in his neck before he too could turn around.

But she stopped moving.

Titan had lunged for the man with the machete, the one Echo had yet to stab. He stopped short before reaching the man when Echo stopped fighting.

Her spear clattered to the floor. She swayed slightly.

The machete man ignored Titan completely and swung around toward the thin, motionless girl. His arm cocked backward. Echo made no attempt to dodge as the butt of his machete crashed into her head with all of his force.

Titan jumped on him but it was too late. She crumpled to the floor, blood sprayed on the white tiles next to her.

"Echo!" Steelshot cried. He chucked a knife into the dagger holder's neck. Titan took on the machete man as Steelshot slid down next to her.

 _Why did she stop moving?_

Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and feel ever so slightly.

Sticking out of the side of her shoulder was a thin green dart.

She was paralyzed.

But who…

"Titan! The woman!" Steelshot screamed.

Titan ducked a swing from the man, "What?" He called back, catching the machete blade with his metal hand and ripping it from the man.

"The lady has a blow dart thing. It can paralyze you!"

"Find her!" Titan managed before elbowing the man in the gut.

Steelshot looked up. The lady had ducked below the racks in the men's clothing aisles.

He scooped Echo up in his arms and tucked her under a bench used to try on shoes.

"Stay here." He ordered. He crawled over to the dagger man and grabbed the knife from his neck.

Before he knew it he was on his feet darting toward a rack of polo shirts.

 _WOOSH!_

Something flew past his ear. Steelshot looked in the direction of the sound. The woman had peaked out from behind a rack of Hans t-shirts. Steelshot flung a knife at her. She moved just in time. She rolled out from the rack and the knife fell to the floor.

Steelshot ran forward and rammed her to the ground before she could blow another dart. Together they fell against the wall. They rolled on the ground before the woman found a position on top. She flung her fists into his face over and over again. Steelshot managed to throw her off with a thrust of her pelvis and a swing of his hips.

She fell to the ground. Quickly she wormed her way to the blow dart. Her hand reached out for it. Steelshot forced himself up and jumped on her just in time for her to stick her hand in his thigh.

He smiled, catching her wrist in his arm. He would bend it backward and break her arm.

She too smiled.

"Wha—" His fingers loosened and before he knew it Steelshot was lying on the ground with her bare foot shoved onto his face staring at Titan.

The cyborg was bleeding from somewhere under his shirt. Two more cannibals had arrived. One had a still unconscious Echo in his arm and the other was poking her spear at the back of Titan's legs. With his face smushed into the carpet Steelshot could only watch as his friends, and soon himself, were tied up and carried away by people who would surely eat them.

"""""""

Razor had already killed 2 of these guys on her own. She was so freaking good at this. A third made the mistake of challenging her. She smiled.

She chucked her first switch blade into her eye and pounced forward with the other in her hand. She flipped it around a little for affect and then sliced it toward the woman's neck.

"You're prideful young girl." The woman spoke.

Razor furrowed her brow, "What the hell are you talking about cannibal bitch?"

"You should take pleasure in killing no one." They circled each other slowly.

"You eat humans."

"Because the Gods ask me to. But trust me, I will not relish the moment that I end your life." Her brown eyes twinkled in the most terrifyingly enchanting way. "You have no idea what you're doing." The woman said quickly before sweeping her leg under Razor's, knocking her to the ground.

The blonde rolled to the side before the woman could jump on her. She tried to stand but the woman kicked her in the jaw. Razor cried out as she landed hard on her back. The woman straddled her.

"I will not kill you now." She hissed.

"You won't kill me ever!" Razor snapped. She elbowed the woman in her chest and sent her shoe flying into her crotch.

The woman didn't cry out, She simply rolled off and pounced at Razor again. She dodged a swing of Razor's blade and back handed her in the cheek.

Razor stumbled backward, slamming into a freezer full of rancid ice cream. The woman lunged at her but she rolled to the side and swung the freezer door open, smashing the woman in the face with the metal ridge. She ducked under another punch and kicked her in the stomach. Razor tried to slash at her thighs, but the woman grabbed her wrist and forced it above her head.

"Maybe I will kill you now rotten girl!" The woman shouted.

She grabbed Razor's other wrist and forced it above her head as well. The woman was surprisingly strong for such a thin person.

Razor tried to knee her the stomach but the woman beat her too it, driving her knee in to Razor's ribcage.

The young girl bit her tongue. "News flash, you're hands are out of use to." She said, trying to force a snarky tone through her pain.

"I don't need hands girl." She said with a wide smile.

"Oh God." Razor breathed. The woman's teeth were sharpened into fangs.

"Maybe I will relish your taste." She laughed.

 _My God, I'm going to be eaten alive._

Razor squeezed her eyes shut refusing to watch the woman sink her teeth into her own neck.

"Ahhhhh!"

Razor's eyes snapped open. The woman fell to the ground and standing behind her was Jinx, clutching a bloody knife. Her short brown hair was a mess and her lip was bleeding, but she'd never looked prettier to Razor.

"Oh thank God." Razor cried.

The woman managed to regain her footing and lunged at Jinx. Razor slid to the ground, unable to move. She felt like crying. Her heart was thumping in her ears.

Jinx was able to handle the woman either way. She side stepped a sloppy punch and cut through her stomach. The woman screamed and clawed at Jinx. She tackled her to the ground and sunk her teeth into Jinx's tan arm.

Jinx groaned but didn't hesitate to pop the woman in the nose and roll on top of her.

"Sorry about this." She whispered before plunging her knife into the woman's stomach.

The life drained from the enchanting brown eyes.

Razor breathed a sigh of relief.

"I killed two burly dudes all by my self, but that woman… wow was she good. Thanks for saving me."

Jinx looked up, there was the slightest hint of tears in the grey eyes.

"What?" Razor asked, sitting up.

"There are five people chasing me." Jinx said calmly. She swallowed hard. "And this is a dead end."

""""""""

Azrael hoped he made the right call. He wasn't sure they'd be safer in small groups, but it felt like the right decision.

He didn't have time to contemplate it right now. The enemy was upon them, they weren't going to hesitate or weigh right or wrong. They were going to kill, so Azrael would fight back with all of his strength.

CLANG!

The sound of his sword blocking a rusted machete echoed through out the target, marking the first move in the battle. Azrael didn't wait for his opponent's reaction. He spun around and slashed into the man's ribcage, drawing a thin red line across the first rib.

The man cried out in anguish. He shoved Azrael to he ground with one hand and loomed over him. He cocked back his arms, getting ready to hack through Azrael chest.

The blade flew towards Azrael.

CLANG!

Mirage pounced over Azrael and intercepted the rusted blade with her metal staff. She forced the blade out of the man's hands and swung the butt end of her own weapon into his temple. He crumpled to the ground, motionless.

"Thanks." Azrael managed.

Mirage gave a small smile, "C'mon get u—"

BAM!

A women slammed her fist into Mirage's cheek bone. She stumbled backward. The woman advanced swinging at Mirage again. The short girl ducked the second attacked and spun around the woman. She shoved one end of her staff in to the pressure point at the botton of the woman's spine.

The woman grunted in pain but recovered quickly.

Azrael got to his feet to help her but a man stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

Over his shoulder Azrael could see Mirage swing at the woman's kneecap. The woman grabbed her weapon and forcefully ripped it from her hand. It spiraled to the floor leaving Mirage unarmed.

Azrael reached for her, but the man in front of him shoved the blonde backward. He punched Azrael hard in the stomach forcing him to nearly drop his sword and double over. He clutched the hilt tightly, trying to catch his breath.

Mirage screamed in pain. Then it was silent.

"Hey!" Azrael called in frustration. He jumped forward but the man tripped him easily. Azrael fell to the ground. He rolled onto his side and slashed at the man's calf. He drew a thin line of blood, but not enough to stop the man from stomping on Azrael's hand.

"Argh!" Azrael screamed.

He flipped up to his feet with out his sword.

"Screw this." He muttered. Red rage filled him. The kind of anger that burned under his eyes and made his hands shake.

As quickly as a snake his fists flew into the man's eye socket, nose, stomach and cheekbones. Another opponent came up behind him. Azrael didn't even look before smashing his elbow into the persons temple. Two more were all of a sudden there.

Nothing made sense. He couldn't make out faces or people.

He roared with frustration and rammed his foot into a tall person's diaphragm. He saw what looked like Mirage lying on the ground. He jumped over her and swung at who ever was attacking her motionless body.

"Azrael! Stop! It's me! Vhat are you doing?"

Azrael stumbled backward at the familiar German accent.

"I…I…" He blinked rapidly. It was Vixen, standing crouching over a lifeless Mirage.

"Move!" She cried, shoving him to the side. She too held a staff, a wooden one. She smashed it into a bleeding man's shoulder. She crouched low before swinging at him again, making contact with his cheekbone.

He fell to the ground and another man took his place.

Azrael looked around. There were plenty of them; at least 15 still standing, maybe even more still alive.

In their arms were Elites. Razor, Jinx, Titan, Reaper and Marshal bound with rope. Three large men were holding Echo, Overseer and Steelshot. Overseer stirred in his captors arms while the other two were entirely motionless. Steelshot had his eyes open with drool spilling from his mouth; Echo was bleeding badly.

Mirage lay on the ground. As far as Azrael could tell, it was just himself and Vixen left standing.

Vixen gripped her staff tightly. "Vee von't give up." She spat.

"Drop the weapons or else I'll shoot this one in the head." A man holding one of Marshal's pistols aimed the gun right at Jinx's head.

"Drop it." Azrael grumbled.

Vixen looked at the boy entirely perplexed.

"Vee can take them."

Azrael stared into her honey brown eyes, golden flecks of amber danced in them as the falling sun like sunk into her irises. "No. We can't. _I_ fucked up Vixen. We aren't making it out of this."


	8. What Has Long Escaped Us

SORRY FOR THE ABSENCE! I'm starting my junior year and man is it tough. Not a lot of time on my hands. I also struggled with a bit of writers block with this chapter aaaannnnd im considering starting another story. I think it would be quite popular, but I'm not sure if I wanna make another commitment when I'm having a hard time even updating for this one! REVIEW PLEASE! Oh and side note, all titles come from lyrics of songs. I listen to music when I write and if I get inspo from a lyric I make it the title.

""""""""""""""

Drunk. That's the best way Steelshot could describe how he felt. His arms and legs were heavy bags of sand wrapped into long cylinders and strapped to his body. They would move, but not the way he wanted them to move. His skin was tingly and numb and the world around him spun if he so much as shifted his head to the side. They were loaded in some sort of van with metal walls that had thin benches pushed against them. Steelshot was lying on the floor, dumped next to some one else how was motionless as well. The others were sitting on the benches with their hands bound and their heads down. Stringy locks of hair covered the girls faces while the boy boys' eyes were shadowed and matte. Those who spoke did so quickly and quietly, and the majority kept their lips sealed shut, as if it was barely worth breathing.

The van rattled through the Scorch. It's engines were most likely filled with some sort of blender of fossil fuel scraps that cost them an arm and a leg… maybe even literally.

"Gahs…" Steelshot tried. His tongue felt like a dead fish in his mouth.

"Steelshot, can you move now?" Jinx asked, bending over to meet his gaze. She was the only one who recognised his existence.

"Ah lil." He mumbled.

"That's good." Jinx said with the most forced smile Steelshot had ever seen. She sat up straight again, flicking her grey hues to the wall in front of her where they would remain. Her eyes shook as she held in the thousands of things she wanted to say.

Steelshot was suddenly airborne as the van flew over some sort of bump in the road. It landed painfully and so did he.

"Wha z hahpenen?" Steelshot demanded through slurs.

No one answered him.

The van jolted to a halt.

He used all of his might to press his palms into the cold metal and push himself into an upright position. Black spots burst through his vision as he slid backwards so that his spine was resting against the wall separating them from the drivers. Vomit surfaced in his throat.

The sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the van. The padlock rattled and then bright sunlight poured into their cage.

As Steelshot's vision adjusted he saw two figures, man and woman, standing just outside the trunk of the large van.

"What do you want?" Razor growled, struggling against her bindings.

The people ignored her. The man climbed into the van and walked right up to Steelshot, keeping eye contact the whole time.

Steelshot narrowed his eyes and spat at the man's feet.

The man crouched low, stopping so he was just a few inches above eye level with Steelshot, and looked down at him. He returned the glare gathering up a wad of spit and shooting it into directly Steelshot's droopy eye.

The teen nearly gagged as the warm liquid spread through his retina and seeped in to his eye socket.

"Ah Gad." Steelshot moaned. He couldn't even wipe it away.

"What do you want?" Razor demanded again, louder this time.

The man stood up and looked around at all of them. "Too heavy." He said in a thick accent.

He returned to Steelshot, bent down, and scooped up whoever was lying next to him.

It was Echo; motionless and unconscious. Her white hair line was caked in blood and her skin was unusually pale. She lay like a rag doll in the man's arms as he turned away from Steelshot and lumbered towards the open doors of the van.

"Hey! Hey wha ah you doing?" Steelshot forced himself to yell. He tried to stand, but he was focusing all of his energy on his tongue, so the second he made it a few inches off the ground, he was back down on his butt. "Stahp him gahs!" Steelshot begged the Elites.

Thankfully Azrael and Titan stood up. Both of them were on different sides of the van. They stuck their shoulders in the doorway making the man unable to leave.

"Put her down." Azrael ordered.

The man nearly laughed at the valiant effort of the two males. "She dead." He sneered.

"No she isn't. And she's not heavy. If you need to let go of some weight let go of me." Azrael said. Steelshot admired the way he could so calmly sacrifice himself for a stranger.

The man did laugh this time. "You're alive. She dead. Move."

The pair didn't move.

"Aya." The man called.

"Ow!" Titan yelled as the woman behind them poked the sharp end of her spear into the back of his leg just hard enough to make him jump to the side. "Let her go!" Titan cried, slamming his shoulder into the large man just before he could jumped out of the van.

The man stumbled into Azrael and nearly dropped Echo. Titan reached for her, but the woman sprang into the van and shoved her spear right up to boy's neck, forcing him to back down into his seat.

"Azrael." Titan said through grit teeth.

The blond haired teen began to move but the woman spoke harshly, "I'll stick this spear right into his neck pretty neck. Then all of his nice blood will spill out and we'll chuck them both our of this van. Do you understand me?"

Azrael froze.

His face contorted slightly as he stared at the unconscious girl crumpled in the man's arms. Regret flickered through his expression. Regret that he could not do more.

"Fine." Azrael whispered, returning to his seat.

The Elites watched as the man mercilessly chucked Echo into the sand like a sac of potatoes, not even giving her a bottle of water or having decency to not laugh as he did it.

"Enjoy the rest of your ride." The woman said with a half curtsy and a smile, before hoping out of the van behind him and yanking the door closed.

"Dah sometin!" Steelshot yelled.

"Azrael why'd you let him go?" Titan demanded, rubbing his neck.

"If I had fought him she would've killed you and probably all of us right after. It wasn't worth it to save a girl who is dying." The words came out of him slowly as if they clung to his tongue as he tried to force them out.

Vixen barred her teeth, "Vhy do you keep giving up? She vas vone of us! She is vorth a fight!"

"The woman had a spear at Titan's neck! She would've killed him instantly!" Razor yelled at Vixen defending Azrael.

"I could've stopped her!" Titan shouted at Razor.

"We need to go get her." Jinx piped up.

"No one wanted to let her go, but it wasn't worth one of us dying for that girl." Azrael said in a shaky voice. He could feel his temper rising. It felt like a red hot animal inside of him, something he needed to either lock away or release in a furry of violence and anger directed to no one in particular.

"Echo isn't some girl and she isn't dead. She is a part of our team. Ve're a team now and Vee have to fight for each other!" Vixen shot back.

Azrael smashed his bound fists into the metal wall. "Enough! If you want to fight for her be my guest; I don't _want_ to be making these calls. If you think you can do it better then by all means take charge. I made the decision I thought was best and we're all still alive because of it. Now stop yelling at me and make your own god damn decisions! I'm not your leader or your president or your fucking dad! I'm as scared and lost and confused as all of you! So if you wanna bust out of here, avoid the hoards of cannibals, and go nurse that weakling back to health go a head and do it! But I think we'll make it just fine with out her!" He grit his teeth to stop the curse words and clenched his fists to stop himself from lashing out again.

Vixen was silent. Tears bit at her eyes.

"I guess vee are strangers." She whispered.

He sucked in deep breaths, forcing the lump that was in his throat back into the cage that it escaped from. "I guess so." Azrael muttered, leaning his head against the wall and looking away from the group.

But that was a lie. Azrael would never admit it and could never explain it, but something hummed within him as retreated from the fight. Something aside from the anger and adrenaline. It was like a small piece of his heart had been chipped away as Echo was thrown from the van.

These people weren't strangers, or they hadn't always been strangers.

Some how the 12 of them were connected.

But Azrael didn't say antyhing. Instead he stared at the wall in front of him and dug his nails into his road the rest of the way in silence.

"""""""""""

Mirage regained consciousness during the fight between Vixen and Azrael, but she didn't step in. She couldn't gather the energy.

"Why were they fighting?" She asked, leaning over to Jinx.

The girl was staring at her fingers, visibly upset, "They were fighting over Echo. They threw her out of the van. Azrael doesn't think sh-she's gunna make it." Her voice broke half way through.

Mirage patted Jinx's thigh, "Don't think about it." She offered. Lame, she knew it was a weak condolence, but she didn't know what to say.

Her brown eyes darted around the metal bus, the group looked smaller than it had before…

"Bear. Where's Bear?" Mirage demanded.

"Huh?" Jinx asked, looking up.

"Guys, Bear isn't here." Mirage told everyone in a harsh whisper.

"Did they not capture her?" Reaper asked.

"I helped her run away." Marshal said in a low voice.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Azrael demanded.

Marshal shrugged, "I didn't want to give false hope."

"Guys, this is big! We may still have a chance!" Jinx piped up.

"Or she's dead and we are going to be dead soon too." Razor muttered under her breath.

Jinx frowned at the blonde haired girl. "That was unnecessary."

"Yah, and so is you positive attitude. We're screwed."

Jinx sat back and crossed her arms, "You might be, but _I'm_ getting out of this alive."

Razor rolled eyes.

"Stop bickering." Mirage ordered, "Let's just hope that Bear finds a way to get us out of this. But no one say anything, we don't want them going back for her."

Everyone muttered quiet agreements and went back to being silent.

Mirage could feel the electric buzz of anger and frustration around her. She couldn't blame them. They fell out of a plane, landed in a strange place with no personal memories, and lost their first fight in the course of almost one day. They were hungry and tired and emotional exhausted. Tempers were high.

Mirage almost fell off the bench she was sitting on and onto Steelshot as the van came to a screeching halt.

"Vhat's going on?" Vixen demanded.

The doors swung open, revealing the same man and woman, still armed, standing in front of them. The sky around them was dark.

"Out." The woman said tiredly, as if kidnapping 10 kids was boring to her. She glanced up and tightened her grip on her spear. "No funny business." She muttered. "I'll kill one of you right now if you need an example."

Everyone stood up and hastily exited the van. As they hopped out the man came around with pieces of twine and retied their hands together.

"Hey watch it." Razor hissed as the man tightened the rope around her wrists.

The man was unfazed by her complaints, he simply moved on to the next person.

After they were each tied up, the women motioned for them to follow her. Another man, most likely the one driving the van fell in the back of the group, and together the crowd marched towards a location unknown to the Elites.

""""""""

"Let the fires burn through out the night! Let the stars shine upon us! Let the Gods smile at our sacrifice! They have forsaken us because we have forsaken them!"

A woman, red haired, olive skinned and covered in white paint, wearing only a thin cloth for a skirt and entirely topless danced around a gigantic bonfire. Beads made of silver, gold, teeth, and human bones hung around her neck, wrists and ankles, jangling as she moved and spoke dramatically.

Sitting in the sand were at least 50, maybe as much as 100 other cannibals. Each one was painted in different elaborate patterns. They whooped and hollered as the woman chanted around the fire.

Each elite was tied to a long pole jutting out from the sand. There were 9 poles and 10 Elites, meaning that Overseer and Reaper had to share. The rest of the teens were alone, separated, and terrified.

"The Gods sent the sun flares down on us because we were not giving ourselves to them! We must love them with all of our hearts and worship them with all of our souls!" Shed cried. The crowd hollered blindly at the heavens. "We must give back to our great titans! Tomorrow night, when the sun sinks below the horizons we will give them these bodies in exchange for good fortune!"

"AY-AY-AY!" The crowd cheered.

"Wait, so they aren't going to eat us?" Reaper whispered to Overseer.

Overseer rolled his eyes, "I have no idea dude." He spat.

"Well then," Reaper retreated.

Overseer was still mad about the whole not watching his back thing, Reaper could tell.

The boys returned their attention to the cannibals. "Tonight, we will feast with our sacrifices! We will dance and we will rejoice in their good health! And tomorrow, the God will be reminded that we are loyal to them and only them." The woman raised her hands above her head. Every one was silent. The steady beat of the drum silenced.

In one hand she held a stone knife. The other was empty with her palm open wide.

"Blessed be the Gods who will save us from this Hell!" She cried, raining over the silence. She sliced the knife through her palm and whisked her blood into the fire.

The group erupted again. They pounded the drums, whooped and danced and brought food from their tents.

Young girls and old women whirled from teen to teen, shoving expired grocery store food in their mouths and forcing water down their throats.

Overseer choked on a hunk of some sort of meat.

"Dear God, what if it's human?" Reaper gagged as a piece of the same meat was smashed between his lips.

Overseer spit the mystery food onto the sand.

Overseer watched in horror as the boy tied to the same post as him swallowed the final bite of the meat with a pained look. Overseer leaned forward, waiting for some sort of reaction.

"It's chicken." Reaper said with a sigh of relief and a satisfied smile.

Overseer narrowed his eyes.

"Oh gosh, sorry. You must be hungry. It probably doesn't help if I tell you it was really good." Reaper apologised.

"Stop talking."

In the corner of his eye, the Asian boy could see some one pull the woman aside. It was a man, dressed in cloth and bones as well. He made out a few words, "Sorry" "orders" "He wants" "I know I know" "Kalaila forgive me".The man was telling the woman something. She was visibly upset and continued to argue with him.

"Leave one" Overseer guessed she said, "doesn't need" "Gods do".

"What are they saying?" Reaper asked.

"I'm not sure. I think they are talking about us though. She says she needs one of us maybe?" Overseer speculated. His head rang with possibilities. If they were only going to kill one of them, how would they choose?

More importantly, would any of the Elites sacrifice themselves for the rest?

Overseer looked down the row of poles. Teenagers of different ages, races and genders. He could barely remember the nicknames given to them by WICKED.

But he did feel a connection to them.

Overseer wasn't an emotional guy what so ever. He was calm and calculating. His brain controlled him not his heart. But something about the teens radiated warmth. From the way he found Reaper's incessant joking both infuriating and slightly funny to the way a group of the Elites had been able to comfortably lay one another in the Target without a sliver of awkwardness. He, for whatever reason, probably for a reason he would never know or understand, was some what attached to the other 11 blank faced fools stuck with him. And they were some how connected to him.

Could he sacrifice himself for any of them?

The woman turned away from the man. Though she was a good 10 meters from Overseer, he could've sworn she was staring directly at him.

"Fine then," Her voice rose above the fire and the dying beat of the drums. The twisted evil in her dark eyes made Overseer's stomach turn. The way her lips pulled into a half smile as she spoke to him indirectly, "What must be done must be done, nine of them will leave to meet his majesty tomorrow. One of them will meet the Gods."

Overseer turned from her. Slowly his eyes wander to the night sky above him. His mind raced with thoughts of the people around him.

He stared at the night sky above him. Frustration and confusion would remain with him through out the night as he watch the stars.

Overseer had no personal memories, but he had facts. With out light pollution in places such as the desert one could see thousands of stars usually. Yet on that clear night, with out an unatrual light within a thousand meters of them, the stars seemed to barely shine at all. The light had long escaped them.


End file.
